Array ( [sid] => 182927 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => 8820 mornings ago [time] => 2016-04-12 22:00:58 [hometext] => we have eaten life and choked on the pits... [bodytext] =>














our life was a brilliant story that one could never let go!
eight thousand, eight hundred and twenty mornings ago,
where sunrise shown deeply within faithful loving hearts
sweet eyes of brown, lips full beautiful, his palette of art,
childrens toys strewn about the floor, mastiff licking noses
in arms of sweet truelove: kisses, on porch of pink tea roses,
living the great american dream: we were! planning! laughing!
music on radio, an untied shoestring, bar-bi-q buffalo wings,
ruffled beds whilst happiness resounded throughout this thing-
that had captured and captivated us, held us: in passion of life!

to look at him.... hair long.... flowing.... over and over yet i fall-
skin tanned, perfectly muscled, whiskered charisma on top of all,
our souls deliriously entwined, of one mind, one spirit glorious!
nothing and no one could pull us down: would awaken victorious!
flowers... blossoms... butterflies: impossible to reach a plateau
for everyday was wonder! ever new! -as barefoot walks in snow,
our love in truth was wished for, dreamed of... some even envied-
whilst we lived oblivious, sheltered, we happily ate banana bread,
all shared holidays... life was an unending breathless adventure!
if tired or weary one well placed kiss: ah, life affirming quencher!

alas, eight thousand, eight hundred and twenty mornings past
we found ourselves inside a brilliant story never meant to last,
all the sitting listening for answers on the wind shant ever do-
void crack in time our little family was to hopelessly fall through
whispers sent from the great beyond are far and few between-
this cherished life once known and shared, is now only a dream,
it has been too many years to count: that last baked cherry pie-
from trees grown in kids backyard of where is now a world away,
steam rising, eyes smiling, sunkissed hearts, our personal buffet-
one tangible pie bursting of cherries on the windowsill of yesterday.













[comments] => 5 [counter] => 329 [topic] => 24 [informant] => ladyfawn [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LoveRemembered ) Your Poetry Dot Com - 8820 mornings ago


8820 mornings ago
Date: Tuesday, 12th April 2016 @ 10:00:58 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry


Contributed By: ladyfawn














our life was a brilliant story that one could never let go!
eight thousand, eight hundred and twenty mornings ago,
where sunrise shown deeply within faithful loving hearts
sweet eyes of brown, lips full beautiful, his palette of art,
childrens toys strewn about the floor, mastiff licking noses
in arms of sweet truelove: kisses, on porch of pink tea roses,
living the great american dream: we were! planning! laughing!
music on radio, an untied shoestring, bar-bi-q buffalo wings,
ruffled beds whilst happiness resounded throughout this thing-
that had captured and captivated us, held us: in passion of life!

to look at him.... hair long.... flowing.... over and over yet i fall-
skin tanned, perfectly muscled, whiskered charisma on top of all,
our souls deliriously entwined, of one mind, one spirit glorious!
nothing and no one could pull us down: would awaken victorious!
flowers... blossoms... butterflies: impossible to reach a plateau
for everyday was wonder! ever new! -as barefoot walks in snow,
our love in truth was wished for, dreamed of... some even envied-
whilst we lived oblivious, sheltered, we happily ate banana bread,
all shared holidays... life was an unending breathless adventure!
if tired or weary one well placed kiss: ah, life affirming quencher!

alas, eight thousand, eight hundred and twenty mornings past
we found ourselves inside a brilliant story never meant to last,
all the sitting listening for answers on the wind shant ever do-
void crack in time our little family was to hopelessly fall through
whispers sent from the great beyond are far and few between-
this cherished life once known and shared, is now only a dream,
it has been too many years to count: that last baked cherry pie-
from trees grown in kids backyard of where is now a world away,
steam rising, eyes smiling, sunkissed hearts, our personal buffet-
one tangible pie bursting of cherries on the windowsill of yesterday.















This poem is Copyright © ladyfawn



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